


Shatter the Darkness

by punk_rock_yuppie



Series: Fic-Tac-Toe [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, F/M, Fireworks, Flirting, Get together fic, HD Birthday Bash 2018, HP: EWE, M/M, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-05-25 18:43:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14983244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punk_rock_yuppie/pseuds/punk_rock_yuppie
Summary: Draco faces Potter in a flash. “Youstolemy vacation idea?”





	Shatter the Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> second square of [fic-tac-toe!](https://hd-birthdaybash.livejournal.com/24965.html#t455045) again, thanks to hannah for beta'ing, ofc. this one was really fun to write! 
> 
> enjoy!

“It’s rather garish, don’t you think?” Pansy asks, following her words with a yawn.

Draco doesn’t bother looking at her, not even to shoot her an aghast, offended expression. He’s entirely too entranced with the display going on a few yards in front of them. He’s been looking forward to this for ages, and he’s not going to let Pansy spoil it no matter how hard she’ll try.

“You just _had_ to pick America, didn’t you?” Pansy continues. She plucks a nail file from her clutch purse and starts to scrape at her nail tips. “You planned this on purpose, hm?” She poses it like a question but they both know it’s not. “Took it as a chance to subject me to a number of things I hate. The outdoors. Americans. Bloody boring fireworks.”

“Pansy please, for once in your fucking life, will you _please_ stop talking?” Draco retorts. His tone isn’t very sharp, but it quells Pansy’s complaining for at least a few minutes.

Draco takes the stretch of blessed silence to really soak in the display. It’s all wizarding fireworks so they’re much more enthralling than muggle ones. They dance and spray color all about the night sky, thoroughly distracting Draco from the mild, late-night chill. It’s a joyous sight, even if it’s for a fourth of July celebration, of all things. The colors are vivid and engaging and Draco finds himself entirely mesmerized.

“Draco? Draco. _Draco!_ ”

He startles and looks over to Pansy. “What?” He snaps. The colors of the fireworks dance across her pale face: blue, then purple, then rapid fire green-yellow-pink.

She points past him insistently, and Draco follows the line of her arm to whatever target she’s aiming at.

Draco swallows uneasily. “Oh, buggering fuck.”

Pansy laughs and it’s mocking, a taunt, but also a little panicked. Same as the unease Draco feels in his chest.

Across the grass are Potter and his goons— _friends_ , Draco corrects to himself, _friends_. They’re all laughing and shoving at one another. They’ve got folding chairs tucked under their arms, and it looks like Lovegood is using a blanket as a cape. Draco’s not even sure he can count all the heads in the group; all he knows for certain is that Potter is leading the charge, and Luna’s shock of blonde hair glows under the fireworks.

They sit a few feet kitty-corner from Draco and Pansy, and Lovegood notices them in an instant.

“Draco!” She exclaims as she rushes over to him, blanket billowing behind her. She crash-lands on her knees beside him and throws her arms around his shoulders. “It’s brilliant to see you!”

He pats her back awkwardly and nods. He spits out locks of her outrageous, semi-curly hair until she finally pulls back. “You too,” he replies slowly.

“Guys!” She turns just far enough to holler at Potter and the rest of the group. “Let’s move closer over here!”

Despite the dark sky and intermittent light of the fireworks, Draco can clearly see the looks of distaste on at least four different faces. “No, Luna, that’s quite alright. You should stay with your friends.”

She takes his hand suddenly. “You’re my friend too, Draco.” Then she lets go and is back off to her group to help them shuffle closer.

“I hate you, so very much.” Pansy leans in to remind him softly.

“As do I,” Draco whispers back. Even so, he stands to help and after only a little bit of grumbling, Pansy eventually gets off her arse to do the same. All told it really doesn’t take that many people to shift a few chairs and blankets around on the grass, but Draco likes to think it helps ease the groups together a bit.

Shortly thereafter, everyone is settling, and Draco fully expects Luna to sit at his side. He looks up at her expectantly. Blanket still tied around her shoulders, she grins at him as she skips past before plopping down right next to Pansy.

“You’re looking lovely,” Luna says, loud and easy. Pansy’s pale, aristocratic face lights up in a blush the same color as a ruby red firework overhead. Draco bursts into giggles. “What? It’s true. Everyone ought to be told when they’re looking nice.”

Draco speaks around a few errant snickers. “You’re so right, Luna,” he says. He grins at Pansy, who’s still burning pink in the cheeks.

“Thanks,” she mutters. Her muted attitude does precisely nothing to deter Luna.

Draco is so distracted by the bizarre mating display he barely notices when someone does actually sit beside him. He’s entirely committed to watching this lovely trainwreck unfold—he’s never seen Pansy so flustered, it’s immensely gratifying—but jumps nearly out of his skin when an arm on his right brushes his.

He whips around and comes nose-to-nose with Potter.

“‘Lo,” Potter says.

“Hello,” Draco greets as he leans back. “What a coincidence, hm?” He looks back toward the fireworks rather than watching the lights splatter across Potter’s tan skin.

“Not really. Andromeda mentioned you’d be coming out, thought it sounded nice.”

Draco faces Potter in a flash. “You _stole_ my vacation idea?”

Potter laughs. “It’s hardly stealing. It _is_ a free country.”

“Hell yeah!” Someone shouts a few meters off, causing Potter to laugh again.

“Do you always vacation with an entire clan?” Draco asks with a nod to the rest of Potter’s group. They take up a significant chunk of grass, the lot of them; Draco’s surprised there was even enough space.

“No better way to do it,” Potter replies.

Draco looks over his shoulder to Pansy, who seems to have settled into something of an ungraceful flirtation with Luna. “To each his own, I suppose. I can’t imagine having to wrangle so many people.”

“They’re not toddlers, Draco. They _are_ capable of fending for themselves.”

Draco sniffs. “A likely story.”

Potter rolls his eyes but lets it drop. “Want a beer?”

Draco nods without thinking. Immediately, two beers zoom over to them and Potter catches them in waiting hands before passing one to Draco.

Once both drinks are cracked and fizzing, Potter raises his. “To vacations.”

Draco _tinks_ his can against Potter’s own. “To coincidences,” he says with a smirk.

 

 

Despite his initial hesitation, the night passes just as wonderfully as he’d hoped. Perhaps even moreso. Pansy’s nagging entirely vanishes, consumed instead by Luna’s eccentricity and unsubtle affection. Draco’s own nerves (of being away from home, of being somewhere new, of several unknowns) had dissipated into whisps the longer he and Potter talked.

By the time the fireworks are being packed up, everyone is just this side of buzzed, and things are _great_.

“We best be going,” Draco announces as he stands on unsteady legs. He gestures for Pansy to stand as well, but she ignores him. “A bed sounds _lovely_ right about now.” He aims a lazy kick at her but misses and scuffs up some grass instead.

“You could stay with us!” Luna pipes up. She’s the only sober one of the bunch, not that she needs alcohol to keep up with their merriment. “Neither of you are in a state to apparate or floo anywhere.”

Draco opens his mouth to protest, but Potter picks up where Luna left off.

“We’ve got a couple tents across the field, there’s plenty of room.” He stands as well and faces Draco head on. “Plenty of beds.”

Someone behind Potter, Draco thinks it’s Finnigan perhaps, wolf-whistles. Potter’s face pinks and it’s only illuminated by the various _lumos_ thrown around them by other people. It’s a hard color to see against Potter’s tan skin, but the hint of pink makes Draco’s heart skip a beat.

Draco looks to Pansy but gives up on getting her support when he realizes how she’s draped over Luna. Draco looks back at Potter with a sigh. “I suppose I don’t have much of a choice.”

Potter grins. “Great. We’ll pack up and head off. It’s only a few minutes’ walk.”

In no time at all, thanks to magic of course, they’re all packed off and trudging in the direction of the tents. Potter once again leads the charge, except this time Draco is at his side. Pansy and Luna are lagging a bit, giggling obnoxiously loud, and Draco’s heart swells at the sound. It’s been ages since he heard Pansy laugh like that, he thinks; a laugh that’s not tinged with snark or sourness.

“Here we are!” Potter says, loud and grand. He gestures to the gathering of tents and people start to split off from the group.

Draco catches Luna saying, “mine’s this way!” and Pansy’s giggles carry them off into the dark. Weasley and Granger say their goodnights to Potter before moving in the direction of their own tent, and everyone else seems to follow suit. Some people come up and chat with Potter for a second, most of them ignoring Draco or simply not noticing him, before heading off. Others leave right away, and Draco can see the happy exhaustion weighing them down.

He’s staring at Abbott and Longbottom drunkenly staggering away when Potter taps his shoulder.

“You coming?” Potter asks. He’s holding open the flap of the tent and waiting expectantly.

Draco heaves his bag over his shoulder again and nods. Potter holds the tent flap open wider and lets Draco slip in first before following behind. Draco looks around and has to admit, he’s impressed. The tent is lavishly furnished, warm but not sweltering, and dressed in muted colors that soothe Draco’s already tired eyes.

His gaze drifts around the tent as Potter busies himself with changing into pajamas. There’s a stove in one corner and a kettle on top, and Draco’s already thinking about a nice cup of tea in the morning. There’s a dresser beside a bookshelf, and a modestly sized dining room table in front of them both, surrounded by six chairs. It’s really quite nice, Draco thinks, until his gaze slides to the right and he gasps.

“There’s only one bed.”

Potter pauses in changing, flannel bottoms part-way up his legs leaving him in nothing but his pants. He even took his shirt off, _bloody hell_. Potter grins as he drags his pajama bottoms up the rest of the way and ties the string that sits obscenely far below his navel. _Merlin’s beard_ , Draco thinks dizzily as his eyes hone in on the dark happy trail leading into the waistband of Potter’s pajamas.

Potter doesn’t put a shirt back on. Instead, he leans against the bedpost and crosses his arms.

“Huh. So there is,” he says, as though he’s just noticing as well.  

Draco stares at Potter’s chest knowing full well he’s not being subtle. It’s not _his_ fault. Potter, in the year since their graduation from Hogwarts, has somehow become _chiseled_ and impossibly more tan. It’s downright absurd, and Draco opens his mouth to say as much, but his tongue is dry and unmoving in his mouth.

“Is that a problem?” Potter asks, a touch of his bravado fading.

It’s like Potter’s nervousness forces Draco’s own to vanish. He replies, sharp as a blade, “Are you coming on to me, Potter? Awful forward of you.”

He carries his bag over to the dining table and starts to unpack his own pajamas. He’s painfully aware of Potter’s eyes on him as he strips down—not that he mirrors Potter’s appearance in any way.

Draco leaves his shirt on, for one, as it’s well-worn and perfect for sleeping in; he drags his shorts down his legs and tsks at the grass stains on them, before yanking his own pajama pants from his bag. He makes a bit of a show out of pulling them on, admittedly. He bends at the waist quite unnecessarily and steps into the soft material. He drags them up slowly, rising as he goes, until they slip over the curve of his arse and he can tie the drawstring.

“Well, Potter?” Draco asks as he starts to turn. “I asked you a qu—?” Draco falters, because as he turns he realizes Potter is _right there_.

He’s looming over Draco, even though Potter is shorter; his shoulders are broad, and his arms are no longer crossed over his chest. His hands hang at his sides, clenching and unclenching.

Draco swallows and watches Potter’s eyes glint, his nostrils flare. “Well, Potter?” He asks again.

“Let’s go to bed,” Potter murmurs as his hands finally snap to grasp Draco’s waist.

Smirking, Draco replies, “Well, if you insist.”


End file.
